


terminological inexactitude

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Samot has a lot of stories about how he first met his husband; or, five ways Samot and Samothes didn’t meet (and one way they did).





	terminological inexactitude

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by alix and linda's tweets from last week (a few weeks ago? What is time), and thanks to maddie, as always, for betaing.

 

“You know,” says Samot, leaning on the bookstore counter, “we actually first met because he was in a class of mine. Poetry.”

 

Lem’s eyes widen, flicking to where Samothes is frowning at the DIY section. “Really?”

 

“Oh yes,” says Samot. “He was in the front row, and I noticed him right away because he never took notes in my class. And  _ then _ I realised that we’d reached the end of the semester without him submitting a single assignment.” 

 

Lem, ever the perfect audience for this type of anecdote, gasps.

 

Samot laughs. “ _ Exactly _ . So I pull him aside after class and give him a long, serious talking to about his grades, and do you know what he says?”

 

Lem shakes his head, absolutely enraptured.

 

“He says that his grade for this class doesn’t matter because he  _ isn’t even taking my class _ ,” says Samot.

 

“But he was there every day!”

 

Samothes looks over at the outburst and Lem blushes.

 

Samot nods, feigning obliviousness to Samothes’ eyes on him. “He was. He told me that he’d accidentally gone into my class on the first day, but that he’d been so  _ utterly  _ taken with me that he didn’t want to leave and couldn’t stop himself from coming back. Just to see me.”

 

“ _ Oh _ ,” says Lem, his eyes wide.

 

“Yes,” says Samot, “that’s how I felt, too.” He taps the poetry books on the counter. “These are actually copies of the books from that semester’s course - they got lost when we moved, and I suppose I’m just feeling a little nostalgic.”

 

Lem nods, then catches himself, starting to actually scan the books through.

 

Samothes slips his arms around Samot's sides from behind, kissing the top of Samot's head. “Ready to go?”

 

Samot smiles up at him. “Just about.”

 

Lem hands the books over to Samothes, cheeks flushing. “I, uh. Have a good time. A good day!”

 

“Don't worry,” says Samot, “we will.”

 

-

 

“We never went to the same college,” says Samothes, after they leave the bookstore.

 

“But we could have,” says Samot.

 

Samothes huffs a laugh, tangling their fingers together.

  
  


\--

  
  


“It’s quite an interesting story about this piece,” says Samot. “In a way, I met my husband through it.”

 

Ephrim looks away from the dry museum text next to the small gold-flecked tome. “I didn't know he worked for this museum.”

 

Samot laughs. “Oh, he doesn't. But I did, for a time, and I thought acquiring rare pieces was the best way to impress my superiors.”

 

Ephrim glances at the text again.  _ Donated by Samothes and Samot _ . 

 

“And you convinced him to donate it if he married you? That seems like a strange way to propose.”

 

“Oh no,” says Samot, “not donate. I broke into his house and demanded he give it to me outright.”

 

Ephrim laughs. 

 

“No, really,” says Samot. “I was  _ very  _ threatening. Of course, he made a compelling counter argument.”

 

“Which was?”

 

“Dinner, with him and without the gun,” says Samot.

 

Ephrim looks from the book to Samot. “I don't know that I'd take that deal.”

 

Samot smiles. “I didn't know if I would either, at the time. But it has served me quite well. And, eventually, I did get what I wanted.”

 

“You usually do,” says Samothes, from behind them. 

 

Samot grins at him, slipping his arm into Samothes's and pressing their bodies as close as the museum guard’s propriety will allow (he's tested it many times).

 

When he glances back at Ephrim, Ephrim's cheeks are flushed.

 

“Wonderful to see you,” says Samot, as he pulls Samothes away. 

 

-

 

“That book,” says Samothes, “was a gift to you from our father. It's a family heirloom.”

 

“And I stole it from your hands many times,” says Samot. 

 

“Only to... “

 

Samot raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Only to what, dear?”

 

“Distract me,” mumbles Samothes.

 

“Exactly,” says Samot, “I feel very confident that if you  _ hadn't  _ wanted to part with the book - which, you didn't, if you remember correctly - I could have  _ convinced  _ you otherwise.”

 

“And if I offered dinner instead?”

 

Samot smiles, squeezing Samothes closer. “Well. I'm sure you would have made a compelling case. You always did.”

  
  


\--

  
  


“I'm afraid it's not that interesting of a story,” says Samothes. 

 

Samot glares at him. “I think it is.”

 

Hella shuffles the papers in front of her, interview notes from the rest of the afternoon. “Oh, well, you don't-”

 

Adaire puts her hand on Hella's arm, turning to Samot. “If your version is more interesting, maybe you could tell us that one?”

 

Samot grins. “Why Ms DuCarte, I'd be delighted!”

 

Samothes groans. Hella shoots him a sympathetic look which Samot cheerfully ignores. 

 

“Now, Samothes doesn't think of it as being terribly exciting, but I prefer to think of it as  _ classic _ .”

 

“Classic,” says Adaire. 

 

“Yes,” says Samot, undeterred by her flat tone. “We lived across the street from one another all our lives. I saw him change from the boy who used to tease me as we walked to school, to a handsome young man who would sometimes go out of his way to do favours for me. I'm afraid it took me an embarrassingly long to to figure out why.”

 

Adaire and Hella both turn towards Samothes. Samot props his chin on his hand, grinning over at him. 

 

Samothes clears his throat. “Well, I… you were quite beautiful. Although I don't remember teasing you.”

 

Samot raises an eyebrow. “You don't?”

 

Samothes blushes. 

 

Hella clears her throat, shuffling the papers in front of her again. “Yes. Right. Um.”

 

Adaire puts her hand in Hella's arm again, and the interview moves on. 

 

-

 

Samothes leans against the door after he closes it, crossing his arms over his chest. “We did  _ not  _ grow up together.”

 

Samot clicks his tongue, then steps closer, putting his hands on Samothes' shoulders. “Does that mean you don't remember the teasing, either?”

 

There's a beat, and then Samothes is pulling him close.

 

“No,” says Samothes, “ _ that _ I remember pretty well. Like it was yesterday, in fact.”

 

Samot hums. “Yesterday? Well in that case, it sounds as though it must be my turn.”

 

He leans up to kiss Samothes, and they speak no more of it. 

  
  


\--

  
  


“It was a strange way of meeting, I suppose,” says Samot. “He was in my employ weeks before I met him face to face.”

 

Hadrian makes a questioning noise, slightly strained from where he's lifting their new cabinet into place. Samot relaxes back further into the couch, swirling the wine in his glass for a moment. 

 

“I was travelling, and my father was so concerned about my safety - totally unnecessarily of course,” says Samot. He pauses. “Samothes was who the security agency sent. Just a name on paperwork for the longest time, until he sat next to me on the plane out, chastising me for trying to lose him in the crowd.”

 

Hadrian eases the cabinet down carefully, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt. Samot admires the view for a moment before continuing. 

 

“We argued for almost the entire trip - he was absolutely unreasonable the entire time of course, insisting on always being by my side. I suppose I must have gotten used to it, after we got back we kept going to dinners, spending long days together.”

 

“At your insistence,” says Samothes, leaning against the door frame. 

 

Hadrian stands straighter and Samot presses his lips together to stifle a laugh. 

 

“I remember it as being yours,” says Samot. 

 

Samothes steps towards him, kissing him softly and plucking the wineglass from his hand. 

 

“Perhaps,” says Samothes, “we were both responsible.”

 

Hadrian clears his throat. “I'll, uh. If that's all good, I'll just- uh.”

 

“Thank you for your assistance, Hadrian,” says Samot, not taking his eyes of Samothes.

 

Hadrian scrambles from the room, the door clicking shut behind him as Samot pulls Samothes down onto the couch. 

 

-

 

“Your bodyguard?” huffs Samothes, “ _ Really _ , my love...”

 

Samot shifts, resting his chin on Samothes' chest as he looks up at him. “You  _ could  _ have been. Our father can be very overprotective.”

 

Samothes huffs a laugh. “Our father knows full well you can take care of yourself.”

  
  


\--

  
  


Samot admires the vaulted architecture behind the scaffolding as Alyosha guides him through the room, his bright orange safety vest in high contrast to the pale grey sweater underneath. 

 

“It really will be beautiful when it's restored,” says Alyosha. “I- I mean, the council, all of us, we can't thank you enough for your generous donation.”

 

Samot waves a hand. “It was our pleasure.” He eyes Samothes, frowning over blueprints on the other side of the room. “The place has a certain… sentimental value to us.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Samot smiles. “Yes. We met here as a matter of fact.”

 

Alyosha's face lights up. “Really? Oh, that's lovely.”

 

“Reaching for the same library book,” says Samot, looking towards where the library's reference section was as though caught in a memory. “He's taller than me and used his height to a very unfair advantage to get the book before me. And so  _ I  _ insisted that he make it up to me… and we've rarely been apart since.”

 

Alyosha smiles. “I hope you got a chance to read the book.”

 

“Many times,” says Samot, smiling back at him. 

 

-

 

“You know, eventually, people are going to compare notes on your tall tales,” says Samothes. 

 

Samot makes a face. “They're not that tall, they're entirely possible.”

 

Samothes kisses the top of his head as he moves past him towards the fridge. “And what, exactly, is wrong with the real tale?”

  
  


\--

  
  


Samot slowly sips his wine. He's giving this particular dating app until the end of this glass, and if there's still nothing he's going to call it a night.

 

No. Maybe, but bland. No.  _ Definitely  _ not. No. No. No- 

 

_ Oh.  _

 

A handsome man grins back at him from his phone screen, the sun shining brightly on his face. Samot pauses, flicking through his other photos - here is the handsome man in some kind of metalwork shop, here is the handsome man leading some students in an outdoor activity, here is the handsome man very much shirtless at the beach, laughing at something off camera. 

 

Samot sets the half-full glass down on the side table. 

 

He flicks through the photos again, slower this time, taking in more details of the profile. Samot hums to himself, then clicks through to the message page before he can talk himself out of it.

 

_ Send Samothes a private message.  _

 

Samot sends a carefully-neutral waving emoji. 

 

He gets a reply back within minutes, an equally-neutral greeting, but this time his message box has a new typing prompt. 

 

_ Samothes is online. Type here to chat now.  _

 

Samot bites his lip. He starts typing a question about the metalworking photo but deletes it. He starts typing another question and deletes that too. His phone vibrates in his hand. 

 

_ You're actually the first person to message me on this thing.  _

 

“I find that hard to believe,” says Samot to himself. 

 

He huffs a laugh, and types just that. 

 

_ I swear it's true. I actually logged on to delete my profile, and then you sent that message.  _

 

**I'm surprised you're so easily swayed by a single emoji.**

 

_ It wasn't the emoji. I looked at your profile - we're on opposite sides of the same city.  _

 

**Yes, I saw that.**

**I suppose even if you deleted your profile now, there's a chance we might see each other around.**

 

_ Maybe. Although meeting you on here is the most compelling argument I've heard for not deleting it.  _

 

Unless you want to take this offline, Samot starts typing. His phone vibrates before he can hit send. 

 

_ Unless you want to free me from this app and meet somewhere in the city instead.  _

_... _

_ Sorry.  _

_ That was very forward of me.  _

 

**It is, but I like the idea.**

  
  


They have lunch, which turns into dinner, which turns into letting their coffee go cold at Samot's place. They linger in one another's presence, their date nights stretching into whole weekends together. Before they part, they delete their apps together. They both know that they won’t need them any more.

  
  


\--

  
  


Samot sighs, long suffering. “It's just so… so…  _ mundane _ .”

 

Samothes turns back towards him, tipping his face up to kiss him properly. Samot sighs again, pleased this time, sliding a hand into Samothes' hair. 

 

“There is absolutely nothing mundane about you,” says Samothes, leaning just far back enough that his lips brush Samot's as he speaks.

 

Well. There's just no sensible answer to that, so Samot guides him down for another kiss. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
